The Court Jester

"Oh, you will be permitted to go with us, I am sure of it!" cried the little princess enthusiastically. "Have you ever sailed in a ship?"

"No, Madame," replied the boy; "I have never been on the sea."

"Nor I, since I can remember it," returned she, "but I long to make a voyage. It must be fine to be so far away from land as to see nothing but the sky and the foam-capped waves, to be on the dark, cold sea and yet be snug and comfortable."

"Once when I was a boy I made a trip on the sea," remarked Le Glorieux, "and I remember that there were times when I was not so snug and comfortable as I could have wished. Believe me, my little princess, you would be much happier traveling on land this time of year than you would be out on the stormy seas. But France will send you home in whatever way it best pleases her, and we shall have but little to say about it."

And it so happened that it was deemed best to send the little princess back to her father by land instead of intrusting her to the sea. This was a disappointment to Marguerite, though she was glad to know that they were to start at once. Already the palace of Amboise was being refitted and refurnished in a style of great magnificence for the new queen, who would not come to occupy it until after her coronation at St. Denis. There was an atmosphere of joy throughout the kingdom in anticipation of the new régime, which was expected to be very different from the terrible days of the previous reign.

Lady Clotilde, who, as the jester had remarked, always managed in some way to get what she wanted, succeeded in persuading the Count de Bresse to allow his son to accompany her to Austria, and it was with light hearts that the party set out on the journey, for a trip that has something pleasant at the end of it is always begun joyously, and there is ever a feeling of exhilaration in the thought of seeing a new country. To the little princess her native land would be as an unknown country, for to her it was not even a memory. Not for a moment did she forget her grudge against France. At the first stop they made, when a glass of wine was offered her with an apology for its sourness, she said with a curl of her red lips, "Even the wine is sour in a country that can not keep its promises." And the day they passed through Arras, the town where the treaty was concluded that was to unite her to Charles, and the people ran out with cries of greeting, she turned her head away with a contemptuous reply.

As soon as they crossed the line that divided France from Flanders, Le Glorieux put spurs to his steed and advanced to the side of the litter in which the princess was seated.

"Little Cousin," said he. The curtains were parted and Marguerite's pretty face smiled at him. "You are now in your very own land of Flanders," said he, "the country your mother brought to Austria as her dower."

"And I am glad to be here," replied she. "I could kiss the very soil of the land that is my own!"

The jester now gradually fell behind, and once more rode at the rear of the procession. "Why do you always ride so far behind?" asked Philibert, checking his own horse to wait for Le Glorieux.

"Do you want me to tell you the real reason?" asked the fool.

"Certainly I do."

"It is because I wish to spare the feelings of Pittacus."

"The legs, rather," laughed the boy.

"I mean exactly what I say – the feelings," persisted the fool. "Do you not think that a donkey can have feelings as well as a person? Of course he can," he went on, answering his own question. "And do you not think that he is greatly humiliated in a company like this?"

"What is there to humiliate him?" asked Antoine, who rode on the other side of the jester.

"Why, look you, many of the other steeds are mounted by the nobility and bear the richest trappings, while poor unfortunate Pittacus has nothing but a common saddle. Do you not suppose that it cuts him to the heart when he notices the contrast? How would either of you feel to mingle with a gay company where jewels flashed and velvets shimmered, while you wore the coarsest fustian?"

"We should not like it, of course," replied Philibert, "but what does a donkey know about such things?"

"If you should ask him about it, you would be very soon convinced of the truth of what I have told you, by the reply that he would make," said Le Glorieux.

"Then let us ask him," said Antoine, and immediately raised his voice, saying, "Pittacus, do you mind whether or not you are wearing gay trappings? If you do, just move your right ear." But the donkey refused to make a sign.

"What did I tell you?" asked Antoine mockingly. "He does not know or care what kind of a saddle you have placed on his back."

"He did not hear you," replied the jester.

"I should like to know why he did not hear me; what are such long ears for, if not for use?"

"If you will stop a moment you will see that he will answer me," said Le Glorieux.

"He can not understand conversation when he is walking," said Philibert, laughing.

"Nor well enough to make a reply even when he is standing still," remarked Antoine. "A donkey is nothing but a donkey, and you can make nothing more out of him."

"There are some donkeys, two legged ones, that can not understand things that are told them," retorted the jester, "but if you will stop a moment, you will see that he will answer me. Pittacus is haughty and particular in the choice of his friends, and he will not reply to every jackanapes who asks him a question."

The three stopped and Le Glorieux dismounted, and going close to the donkey's ear, he said, "Pittacus, joy of my heart, it makes you very unhappy to see the other horses dressed so gay while you are wearing your plain old saddle and blanket, I know it does. If I am right, just move your right ear, Pittacus." And Pittacus did move his right ear, and that quite vigorously.

"Now what have you to say?" asked his master triumphantly.

"You touched him with the point of your dagger and that was the cause of it," said Philibert.

"I did nothing of the kind. See, I will ask him the same question again with my hands clasped behind me. If you meant what you said just now, move your right ear again, Pittacus." Again the donkey's long ear moved as before, and, mounting him, the fool said with great satisfaction, "I hope you will believe a thing when you have seen it with your own eyes, and perhaps you will be careful in what you say about him in his presence."

"I do not see that we need to be so very cautious in what we say, since he does not seem to understand what is said to him, even by you, until the question is bawled into his ear," said Philibert.

"He does not take the trouble to answer unless some one he respects talks into his ear; in fact, he hears no questions asked by ordinary people, but he would hear any gossip about himself, for all that," replied Le Glorieux.

Antoine was very much surprised at the superior intelligence of the donkey, but he did not pursue the subject further. It was a popular belief at this period that animals actually could talk on Christmas Eve, and if this were true, he did not see any reason why they should not be able to move their ears in reply to a question at any time of the year. But Philibert, although he kept perfectly quiet regarding the matter, suspected the truth, which was that with the word "Pittacus" at the end of the sentence the jester blew into the donkey's ear, which caused the animal to move his generous organ of hearing. He was also convinced that it was not the sensitiveness of the animal to the fine trappings of the other horses that kept him in the rear, but that it was because he was too fat and lazy to keep up a brisk pace.

It was a tiresome journey, though they stopped at the towns, and sometimes were entertained at the mansion of some noble family along the route. Not far from Cologne the princess called to Le Glorieux, who, though there were plenty of attendants to see that she was comfortable, was in the habit of riding forward once in a while to make sure that she needed nothing, "I am told that we are not far from Castle Hohenberg," said she. "Ask two of the gentlemen to ride on and notify them of our coming."

"May I accompany them?" asked the fool.

"Certainly, if you like."

"And I should like to exchange horses with one of the guards."

"Why?"

"Because my donkey, Pittacus, is so sensitive."

"Sensitive?" repeated the princess, looking puzzled.

"Pittacus, little Cousin, is perfectly well aware of the shabbiness of his wardrobe, and to prance into a castle courtyard caparisoned as he is, with two other horses that are well dressed, would be more painful to him than to enter in a crowd where he would not be so likely to be noticed."

"Just as you please," replied the princess, smiling. "One of the guards will exchange steeds with you."

"See the fibs your utter indolence and indifference force me to tell," muttered the fool, as he rode away from the litter. "It is I who am sensitive, and on account of your slowness, but all this does not seem to have the least effect upon you or to make you go a jot faster."

Having exchanged with one of the guards, who did not seem at all anxious to make the trade, Le Glorieux galloped gayly away with the two gentlemen, very glad to be one of the first to arrive at the castle.

Wrapped in his robes of crimson, the sun was sinking behind the forest trees when Le Glorieux and his two companions came in sight of the family seat of the Von Hohenbergs. The building was a grim old structure, turreted and rugged, which had seen two centuries come and go, and seemed able to greet many more. Some youths and maidens who had been to the wood to gather fagots were singing and chattering as if the world for them had not a care, though they possessed but the mere necessaries of life. The count and countess had not yet returned from the chase, so the strangers were informed by the haughty seneschal, who immediately softened and almost groveled when informed that the Lady Marguerite of Hapsburg was about to honor the castle with her presence, while every being under that roof seemed to be on the alert to put the best foot foremost, in order properly to receive the little princess. Even Le Glorieux was treated with a degree of deference that caused him to throw back his shoulders and strut about with a great deal of pride.

Soon the sound of a hunting horn was heard, and a company of ladies and gentlemen dashed through the gate with hawks on their wrists and followed by hounds. They seemed more quiet and less happy than the fagot-gatherers, Le Glorieux thought, and he wondered if they were really as happy as those young people who were working for their daily bread.

The Count and Countess Von Hohenberg were very pleasant elderly people, with a large family of sons and daughters, and a number of relatives who always lived with them, so their household was a very large one. They were charmed to hear of the unexpected arrival of the princess, who with her suite soon rode through the gates and received a hearty welcome. A bright fire was snapping in the broad fireplace of the great hall, and did its part in cheering the fatigued and chilled travelers. The guests were conducted to their rooms, which, if they did not contain the luxuries afforded by the sleeping apartments in the mansions of the rich of the present day, were at least comfortable, though the huge beds, with their ghostly hangings, looked as if they might invite the nightmare.

It was a merry company which surrounded the supper table, where Marguerite was, of course, given the seat of honor. Great indignation was expressed at the double insult offered their country by France. "I have heard," said the count, "that Austria has taken up an alliance with England and Spain, so France may learn to fear the house of Hapsburg and its powerful friends."

"And France is no longer governed by the sly and scheming Louis, but by the weakling Charles," said one of the gentlemen.